The Love we Hide (Gay Furry Romance/Thriller story) MA15+

C1P1* - The Amber-Eyed Hero

The Love We Hide

The first novel by Nuz Worthy

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Act I - All's well that doesn't end

Let's call people 'furs', and hands 'paws', and feet 'hind-paws'.

Tuesday evening, Furs are doing drugs behind the bushes outside, shadowed by a descending black universe. Sunless. Stars twinkle and wink at one another like the eyes of long-distance lovers. The school oval is slowly growing, undoubtedly awaiting to be stomped and ripped all over again by the clumsy pathing of tomorrow's jocks, or whomever else testosterone has locked in a bride's grip at the time.

All's well that doesn't end. All's calm before the beginning.

Our story kicks off at the furthest building from the school's entrance - twisted deep within the maze of empty classrooms. Stuffed into greasy 'in-between's.

I'm locked here. My back is pinned hard against the inner side of a locked stall door. The grease is mine. It's also Mike's. In the heat of the passion, he didn't care, and I'm too numb to really give a shit either. There's this one thought on my mind, and its getting my knees weak as it would to any other seventeen year old in my position. The thought is this: sex really sucks.

In my case, it was a special kind of sucky because the person feeling me up, steaming his breaths down my bare back and getting my canine ears twitching, was my boyfriend of just two days. Does that make in nonconsensual? Hard to say.

Do I want this? Fuck no.

"You like this, don't you?" Its amazing what all this excitement is doing to this big cat of mine. He's got his voice all deep and husky. His mane smells of beef jerky, and I'm just catching a whiff of that when he turns me around and now I'm looking at him, watching him pin my own arms over my head. He's got his claws extended, and they dig into mine, making me yip.

"Mike..." I'm trying to catch some airspace against all this lion wafting into me. "M-Maybe school isn't the place for this..."

He shushes me slowly, not letting me kill this sexual momentum he's working up. Now he's got his paws on my chest, digits upturned and slowly lowering them along the colours of my fur. They cross black and chocolatey brown, into deep orange. And its deep, too, because now he's tugging away at the wast-line of my jeans.

I really ought to buy more belts. They're life savers. Even when Mike is forcing his huge, feline paw down down my crotch, the pad of his paw is getting stuck on its tightness. I feel his digits feeling around, eager to find me. He should be able to - but I'm completely flaccid. If that doesn't tell you something about our relationship, then I'm not sure what does.

"Hun," Pet-names usually save me from getting beaten up by thugs like this. "Don't. Please don't."

I got my paws on his wrists, and I'm squeezing a little to deter him.

"Fetch, c'mon. I've waited long enough for this." And he's quite firm about it, and I'm beginning to expect my belt to just snap with all the testosterone raging through this cat.

No, that's not a pet name - I'll try to introduce myself to you later.

I'm getting a little scared now. And its trickling though me, making my tail thrash beat against the toilet seat like a piss-filled drum.

I've got myself sweating, and that's normal in a summer as hot as the one's we get in this town. Small town. Big insects flying everywhere. Big UV pounding down on your fur from up above. We're all bleached. Even my dark brown canine fur looks more like a chocolate after a day's walk.